The brain. That big lump of goo that controls everything about us, that lump of cells that give us our thoughts, that makes sense of the world aruond us, that does things that we have no control over in ways that we don’t know about. It makes us who, and what, we are. Without it we are nothing.

So who’s clever bloody idea was it to put it where it is?

It sits right on top of our bodies, exposed to what ever falls out the sky onto it and ready to be smacked against the ground whenever we take a tumble. It is attached to the main part of us by the flimsiest of connections, the neck, which really doesn’t take a lot to crack or break resulting in the disconnection between the control room of the body and the rest of the machinery rendering us to various degrees of helplessness.

It is packaged inside a hard case that has no softening on the inside. Even when the case is left undamaged by a blow, the brain inside can still be damaged by being bounced against the sides of its’ abode.

It really is a ridiculous arrangement for such an important organ. Intelligent design? If it was, it was a Friday afternoon job.